


Water Shows the Hidden Heart

by December_Daughter



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, eventual mary/matthew, hints of carson/hughes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2281593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/December_Daughter/pseuds/December_Daughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John comes to Downton Abbey expecting nothing more than some honest work and, if he's lucky, a little contentment. Instead, what he finds is an honorable butler, a witty housekeeper, and a housemaid that threatens to make him wish for things he's long since given up on. Turns out his mother was right: nothing is easier to find than the thing you have no intention of looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I've only just discovered the glory that is Downton Abbey. I marathoned all four seasons in three days, because who needs sleep. But I fell in love the with the Anna/Bates pairing from literally the moment I set eyes on them setting eyes on each other. No joke. So I was a little disappointed on my second watch through to realize how much time passes in each episode and between seasons. I need to see more of how these two people fell in love. Thus, this idea was born. I know there is a plethora of "this is how we fell in love" stories out there for these two, but I hope that you find this one exciting and original enough to keep reading. This story is NOT a regurgitation of scenes we've already seen (though there may be a few references to them). And these are not stand alone or "one shot" chapters - this is a linear story.
> 
> Spoilers: none really. The story starts after the first episode, but the show's timeline is a little hard for me to follow since there's at least one instance of an episode covering several months' time.
> 
> Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. I am not making a profit from this. Please don't sue.

Anna rarely had bad days. Optimism and an easy temperament were natural barriers to the irritation and surliness that seemed to prey upon the character of many of her housemates, especially in the early mornings. That was not to say that Anna enjoyed waking with the sunrise. There were plenty of days when she would have loved nothing more than to sleep through the morning, waking to the natural cues of her body rather than a sharp knock on the door. Well, not plenty of days – every day, more like. Still, that was not within her power, and she did not see the sense in griping about what she could not change. That was how she saw many things in her life, truth be told: this was the lot she'd been given, and being nasty would not improve upon it, so why bother? Such had been her attitude, even as a child. Her mother had often wondered aloud how the good Lord had managed to wrangle a ray of sunshine and trap it in such a slight figure, or what his intentions could have been for doing so. Anna hadn't paid much mind to those comments, unable to grasp her mother's meaning or why she should sound so exasperated whenever she asked the question. Sometimes though, on days when her mother wasn't weary to the bone and her smiles were freer, she'd perch little Anna on her lap and call her "little sunshine" while she brushed and braided her hair. Those were some of Anna's best memories.

Rare did not mean impossible, however, and Anna was not immune to bad days. Today was one of those bad days, in fact. Though she'd awoken on time to the customary knock on her door, she'd had a hard time getting started. She had to push herself harder than usual that morning to keep to the expected timetable. A little pressure and rush was normal for her in the bustle of her duties, and she usually enjoyed that energy. Not today, though. Today, the stress did not feel productive. Her duties felt like exactly that – duties.

By the time she'd dressed and outfitted the girls and retreated downstairs for the servants' lunch, Anna was in the closest thing to a bad mood that she'd managed in a long time. As tired as she was and as slow as she felt, she was one of the first to enter the long dining hall. Her body felt like a ton of bricks as she rounded the table and settled in to her assigned seat.

Anna closed her eyes for a long blink, trying not to concentrate on the din and drone around her. A few seconds later, a quiet voice addressed her from her left.

"Are you well, Anna?"

"Quite well. Thank you, Mr. Bates." She cracked one eye open first, then the other, and offered the valet a small smile. He was watching her carefully. "Truly," she asserted. "Just, I'm finding it a little harder to keep pace today."

"You're not feeling ill, I hope?"

"Anna?" another voice asked then.

"Ill?" She answered him quickly. "I haven't the time to be ill."

Anna turned to the right and fixed her attention on Gwen. The young woman also seemed to have noticed her momentary lethargy and offered to retrieve her a powder to assist with whatever unpleasantness she might be feeling. Anna thought for just a moment to accept but was prevented by the influx of people to the room. The meal was about to start. Instead, she offered more reassurances of her health and faced forward again to await Mr. Carson's arrival.

To her surprise, a steaming cup of tea had appeared on the table before her.

Anna couldn't say why with any certainty, but she knew the drink had come from the man next to her. She found the unexpected gesture oddly touching. Mr. Bates had only been with them a fortnight, barely long enough for a small handful of rushed greetings and superfluous conversation. Yet, she seemed to perceive some new layer of kindness in him with every meeting.

"Thank you, Mr. Bates. That's very kind of you."

Thomas stepped into the room just then, practically sneering at her as soon as she made eye contact. "What's the matter with you?"

Quick to take offense wherever the other young man was concerned, William went immediately to her defense. "Leave her alone, Thomas."

Thomas managed to open his mouth to spit some scathing remark, but was cut off by Bates. "Enough. Both of you."

Mr. Carson swept into the room with his usual brusqueness. Any reply that Thomas might have been inclined to make was effectively silenced. Robbed of his chance, the footman dropped sullenly into his chair and glared daggers at the valet from across the table. Anna, who had had barely enough time to follow the exchange – let alone participate – did her best to restrain an annoyed roll of the eyes. She'd long ago given up the notion of Thomas being anything but sour, but she didn't understand why he was always trying to stir the pot.

"I see you're well on your way to making a friend of Thomas." Anna couldn't resist serving up the quiet jest as everyone started eating.

"You must remind me to mourn the loss later."

For the first time that day, Anna smiled.

She tried the tea before the food. Oddly enough, she found herself enjoying the drink more than usual. There was nothing new or unusual about the brew. No sensible reason presented itself for why it should taste better today, so Anna resolved to stop thinking about it and focus on her surroundings instead. The ebb and flow of conversation around her, which had felt so odious before, was now easier to endure. She almost found it enjoyable again. Though she still felt tired and more sluggish than she'd like, Anna admitted that she felt better. She hesitated to think the word refreshed, though maybe by the time the meal was over it would be true.

"Water," Mr. Bates said suddenly, inclining his head toward her.

"What?"

"Drink more water," he elaborated. "It'll help with the sluggishness."

Anna was surprised. "But how did you -?"

The strangest thing happened then: he winked at her. Quiet, stoic Mr. Bates actually winked at her. Anna's answering grin was so wide it almost hurt.

The respite from her duties was short lived. The afternoon meal, which some days felt like a small eternity, seemed to pass on a breath today. She felt as though she was back on her feet and sweeping through the halls before she'd even realized she had been seated.

Though her day didn't slow, the improvement in Anna's mood held. She made a conscious effort to take in more water whenever she found herself downstairs, or when there was a minute to spare. The lethargy that she'd woken with didn't dissipate entirely, but it did lessen through the hours. The water seemed to be helping. Whenever Anna allowed herself to remember the advice she had to fight a smile, though why it should invoke such a response was beyond her. She supposed that it was just nice to add another kind heart to their ranks below stairs, especially in the face of Thomas' unrelenting nastiness.

The girls hadn't gone upstairs yet, so Lady Sybil's room was empty when Anna stepped inside. She set about gathering the youngest girl's chosen dress for the evening with the ease of someone who knew exactly what she was doing and where everything was. Her steps did not falter as she moved back and forth across the carpet; she barely had to look at what she was taking hold of. The ease with which she moved around the space made Anna happy because it was a testament of how long she'd been with the family. Downton Abbey was as much her home as the farm she was born on had been. Perhaps it was even more so, since she had carved out her place here with care and diligence. There could never be anything less than satisfaction within her breast whenever she considered how much effort she had put into getting to where she was today.

The fact that she liked – nay, loved the girls was just the icing on the cake. Many people in the world were less fortunate in their employers than Anna considered herself to be: they had their faults, like any other family, but the Crawley's were a very decent sort. Though she didn't fool herself that they were equals, she counted all three of Lord Grantham's daughters as friends (though perhaps a little less so in the case of Edith). She wasn't sure she would admit as much aloud, though. At least not without being sure of the company she was in, anyway. Anna could easily imagine the spasm Mr. Carson would fall into if he were to hear her say so.

As the youngest, it would have made sense if Anna had a hard time getting on with Lady Sybil, being nearly ten years her elder. The disparity in their ages was actually a small matter in truth, eclipsed by two temperaments more evenly matched than not. Of all the young ladies, Sybil was the most like Anna.

The hurried shuffle of feet over carpet pulled Anna's attention from her task. The quickness of the steps struck her as curious and led her to the door, where she arrived just in time to see a harassed looking Gwen run headlong into an unsuspecting Mr. Bates. The young woman let out a surprised squeal, the bundle of clothing in her hands cascading to the floor as she lost her balance. Anna darted forward, reaching out to catch Gwen as she did so; she was not as near or as quick as Mr. Bates, however, who dropped his cane to grab a hold of Gwen before she went over.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Bates!"

The valet only smiled reassuringly as he helped set them back to rights. Anna had already scooped up the discarded clothing.

"It's quite all right, Gwen. No harm done. Are you well?"

"Well enough to watch where she's going, certainly." Anna's words held no venom, only a dry sort of chastisement as she cast the other woman a pointed look.

"Of course," Gwen agreed quickly. She took back the clothing Anna had proffered. "Only, I … never mind. Sorry again, Mr. Bates."

Anna shook her head at Gwen's retreating form as it disappeared through the stairwell door. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Mr. Bates' cane, lying forgotten in the hullabaloo. For just a second she couldn't decide what to do: courtesy urged her to retrieve the object, and a sensibility for Mr. Bates' pride wondered if it wouldn't be better to let him retrieve it himself.

Courtesy won out. Anna swooped down before the valet could take more than an uneven step toward the cane. She was surprised to find it lighter than she'd imagined something made of solid wood could be, the surface so smooth it was almost soft beneath her hand. Were they all like that, or had he worn it down over years of use and habitual care?

"Thank you," Mr. Bates said as she handed it back to him. He watched her closely, as was his habit, subconsciously marking the turn of her expression. Privately, he could admit that Anna had a pleasing face, rendered more so by the steady openness of her expressions.

"Quick on your feet, aren't you?" Anna wasn't sure what drove her to tease him but it was all she could do not to smirk at him.

"One of them, anyway."

He was better at keeping his face bland. Anna would have feared that she'd embarrassed him if she hadn't caught the devilish glint in his eye at the last second. A moment passed in which she saw him seated next to her again, tossing that enigmatic wink at her over his shoulder. Mr. Bates had a sense of humor after all, it would seem.

"How are you feeling?" he inquired.

"Better, thanks. Your advice has done me well." Anna smiled at him.

"I'm glad to hear it."

The sound of a door opening downstairs brought them back to themselves. The realization that she would be caught quite unprepared if Lady Sybil were to appear at the moment horrified her – not only had she not managed to keep to her time table, she'd fallen even farther behind.

"Blast," she muttered in irritation. "I'll never get ahead of this day. I do apologize, Mr. Bates, but I better get on."

"Of course." She'd just turned to step back in to Lady Sybil's room when he added, "And look on the bright side. The day's almost done."

"Thank God for small miracles."

Lady Sybil practically bounded into the room not much later. The young woman was in a fine mood, nattering away with youthful energy as Anna undressed and then redressed her. Though Sybil could be hard to keep up with in her enthusiasm, Anna couldn't remain untouched by it. She found herself smiling widely as she set to putting Lady Sybil's hair to rights.

Trying to juggle her duties as head housemaid while also serving as a Lady's maid to all three daughters was a handful on the best of days, and a trial on the worst. She wondered sometimes how a single day could possibly hold enough minutes for her to accomplish every task in her charge. On days like those – like today – Anna was grateful for naturally quick fingers and cooperative charges.

The young maid moved from one room to another like a small tornado, until finding herself, at long last, in Lady Mary's company. The other woman was quiet as Anna helped her out of her afternoon frock, staring unfocusedly at the distant wall. Her movements were easy but mechanical.

"Are you all right, m'lady?" Anna prodded gently.

"Hmm? Oh yes, yes," Mary answered, shaking her head to dispel her thoughts. "Cousin Matthew will be up for dinner tonight."

Anna waited quietly to see if she would say anything else. Unlike Sybil, who required very little prodding when it came to sharing her feelings, or Edith, who was not unlike an iron lockbox, Mary needed the right mix of patience and encouragement. Anna had discovered that quickly.

Only when Mary was settling into the chair in front of her vanity did she take up the thread of conversation again. Anna was gathering the long dark strands of her hair when she caught the Lady's eye in the mirror.

"I can't quite seem to get the measure of him," Mary explained, as if there had been no lull in conversation. "I thought I had it –."

Edith pushed the door open then, Sybil quick on her heels. They were in mid conversation and travelled automatically to their customary spots. Edith chose to sit in a chair and Sybil perched on the end of the bed.

"…I just don't know what that'll accomplish," Edith was saying.

"How can you say that?" Sybil argued. "It'll change everything!"

"And give poor papa a fit, I'm sure."

"Whatever are you arguing about now?" Mary interjected, already irritated.

By the time Anna was finished and released for dinner her head was ringing. She still found it hard to understand the relationship between the sisters. While both of the elder girls seemed truly fond of the youngest, Mary and Edith were downright nasty to each other more often than not. Lady Mary had a tongue like a guillotine, which Anna privately thought had been sharpened at Lady Edith's expense a few times too many. She did her best to remember that she did not have the full story, and was in no position to judge, but it was hard not to when she was privy to so many of their quarrels. Perhaps it was truly just a case of two characters so wholly unlike that they could not allow for one another; that would explain their intolerance of each other, but perfect sweetness with others. As it was, Anna had known few harsh words from any of them in her time at the house. Witnessing moments like the one she'd just left made her doubly thankful for that.

Anna made her way through the Abbey and below stairs with only half a mind for the journey. Seeing the Crawley sisters together had made her think of her own family. She'd come to Downton as a young girl some years before; the memories of the time before the Abbey felt old, worn through and smudged like an old letter folded too many times. Anna had seen her parents and brother less than a handful of times since leaving the farm. The distance between the Abbey and her family home was not insurmountable, but it was unreasonable for the few free hours she had on her half day off. Though she supposed – and the realization saddened her – that she could have made more of an effort, if only the matter were a little more important to her. The problem wasn't that she didn't love her family, or that she'd long ago come to think of the people here as her family; the problem was that the inconsistent correspondence she'd kept up with her parents over the years was not enough to keep the connection strong between them. Perhaps that was her fault. Perhaps, if she stopped long enough to really think about it, she'd feel guilty for the lack of effort on her part.

"Anna?"

Anna's head snapped up at the sound of her name. She was startled to find herself standing at the bottom of the staircase in the servant's hall, immobile. How long had she been standing there like that?

Mrs. Hughes was looking at her in consternation, obviously just as confused at her behavior as Anna herself. "Is anything amiss?"

"No, Mrs. Hughes." She smiled to reinforce her answer.

"Better get in to dinner, then."

As she passed the head housekeeper on her way into the hall, Anna suddenly wondered if she was a bad daughter – and why her first thought was to ask for Mrs. Hughes' opinion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me start by saying that I've taken a few artistic liberties in this chapter. I've embellished the story of Bates' leg injury to serve my purposes, although the basic facts are the same (injured in war, shrapnel responsible for his limp). And now that's out of the way, thank you to everyone who has left me a review - you're all wonderful and your encouragement is appreciated! Also, lemacd asked me to explain the meaning behind the title - I'm not going to do that, because the title plays a part in the story and will (hopefully) be explained as we go. I will say, however, that there is a song by Enya of the same title. I had this idea before I looked up the lyrics for the song, so I've sort of tweaked the title to fit my own needs, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that the lyrics fit Mr. Bates and Anna remarkably well. So there's that. :)

"How'd it happen?" Daisy queried. The young woman was seated across from him, a forgotten rag lying just out of reach on the table.

"How'd what happen?" John replied. His eyes were trained on the collar he held in his hands, inspecting it for overall quality and serviceability.

"How'd you end up hurt?" She motioned to his injured leg.

The valet was unprepared for the question, though in retrospect he probably shouldn't have been. What other outcome could there be when the Earl of Grantham himself came down to the servant's hall to welcome you into his service?

His eyes left the collar he'd been studying and retrained on Daisy's face. The young woman seemed to have embarrassed herself by asking: her cheeks were aflame, eyes wide, and she had taken to wringing her hands together. Beneath the embarrassment she looked tired, which prompted him to wonder why she was still awake. The hour was late and most of their comrades had already retreated to their beds. He was accustomed to being up late – a long held bad habit – but couldn't see any reason why Daisy hadn't gone up yet.

John had known the question would eventually come up. He was surprised to find it put to him by Daisy, though, and that it came of honest curiosity. He'd just assumed that it would come from Thomas' mouth, or maybe O'Brien's, and be dripping with scorn. Had either of those scenarios taken place, John wouldn't have hesitated to circumnavigate the question with a few barbed words of his own. But this was Daisy – sweet, naive Daisy – and he didn't blame her for a natural curiosity.

Daisy had chosen her opportunity perfectly. John Bates was a private man; had she asked him while in company he never would have answered.

As it was, he tried to keep it simple. "I was shot."

A crease formed between Daisy's eyes and she was about to say something else when the soft staccato of footsteps heralded the arrival of another person.

"I thought that was your voice," Anna said as she stepped into the room. "Whatever are you doing up, Mr. Bates?"

She had that gentle quirk of a smile on, the one that never seemed to be far from her lips. John found that the expression made him want to smile as well.

"Daisy here was just asking about my leg," he explained, nodding toward the girl.

Anna's expression quickly turned to one of mortification. "Daisy!" she practically hissed.

"It's all right," John interrupted. Poor Daisy looked downright scared, which seemed a little comical to him since it was Anna doing the scolding. He had not been at Downton long, but he seriously doubted that the head housemaid was capable of anything but kindness. "I don't mind. Truly." Anna looked like she wanted to say more, but he turned his attention back to Daisy. "What were you going to say?"

"Only that lots o'people been shot, an' they don't limp."

Now that did make John smile. Damn. He was ashamed to admit that he sometimes mistook Daisy's naiveté for a lack of understanding, when it wasn't that at all. As she'd just reminded him.

"True enough." He finally set down the collar he'd been holding, using the distraction as a reason to look away from both women before answering. Talking about the war was always trying – figuring out how to string the words together in a way that brought up the least amount of memories – but he didn't mind them knowing, not really. Not Daisy and Anna. "We were charging the enemy when I got hit. The round shattered the bone. I should have stopped."

"What d'ya mean, stopped?" Daisy repeated incredulously. "Surely you di'n't keep goin', that'd be daft!"

The sincerity and unexpectedness of her outburst made John huff out a laugh. How many times upon waking in that hospital had he called himself that – that, and worse?

"That's about the short of it," he muttered, and the self-deprecation was hard to conceal. He knew now that he'd always been a daft fool. "As it were, some of the shrapnel dug in. I was fine for a while, until it shifted."

"Does it hurt?" Daisy asked sympathetically.

"No." The lie fell easily from his lips. Well, it was a partial truth; it didn't always hurt.

"But why'd ya keep goin'?"

The question was like a key. Daisy's words fell upon his ears and turned, twisted, until the lock in his mind had been thrown off and his memories unleashed. In the span of a breath, he was transported to a very different place. He no longer beheld the walls of Downton Abbey around him: he saw only the brilliancy of an African sun, boiling him from the inside out until he was certain his skin was going to crawl off of his body. He smelled gunpowder and the putrid flesh of men who'd fallen he didn't know how long ago. John saw a young Robert Crawley next to him, with a full head of dark hair and a dirty face.

Now, a continent and many years away from the moment, John Bates again felt the searing pain that was the tearing of flesh; felt the shock in his elbows and the grains of dirt between his fingers as he braced against the fall. He remembered perfectly the clarity and strength with which he'd thought, "I must surely be dead". By the time he'd realized that he wasn't, Robert Crawley had been nowhere to be found.

John had called repeatedly for a medic as he'd crawled and dragged himself for what felt like miles. How the dirt and dust had clung to his face and clogged his lungs! Water had seemed like a mere romantic fancy.

The arrival of a medic had been a relief short lived. The man who'd pulled him up with an arm around his neck had been no older than John, and clearly terrified. They'd made it so far – nearly all the way back to the trenches John had just left – when a bullet had taken the young medic. The two of them had collapsed together. There was no other word for what he'd endured then but Hell. The weight of a dead man had pinned him to the ground, grinding the shattered pieces of his leg together. His reaction had been … visceral.

Why had he kept going? Why had he fought and struggled to free himself from that lifeless man like a manic prisoner trying to escape his fetters, sobbing like a child all the while?

He could have – should have waited. The odds had been in his favor that the next person to happen upon him would be friend and not foe. So why had he limped his way to that field dressing station? Fear. Overwhelming, mind numbing fear that was indescribable in its horrors.

Absorbed as he was in his memories, John did not notice the nervous look Daisy shot at Anna. Nor did he notice when the older woman quietly shooed the kitchen maid to bed without an answer to her last question.

Anna had no way of knowing what scenes Mr. Bates was replaying in his mind, but she had a primitive understanding of the shadows that seemed to move through his eyes and over his face. The way his mouth had turned down at the corners tugged at the healthy vein of empathy that ran through her heart. She moved toward him calmly, hesitating only a moment before reaching out to lightly touch his sleeve.

"Mr. Bates?"

The visions of an African desert and the sun bleached bodies of fallen soldiers vanished then, driven off by a sweet lilt and a feathery touch. He looked up quite suddenly. He found his eyes drawn to the fine features of Anna's face, lingering just above him. Her blue eyes were clear, and soft, but held no trace of pity or wariness. She merely offered him a soft smile and a gentle squeeze where her hand rested on his arm.

"Would you like some water?" Anna offered. "Or tea, perhaps?"

He could not have said what he felt in that moment. To come out of a moment of such unexpected vulnerability and find himself in the hands of kindness incarnate … A visage as sweet as young Anna – for she was young, much younger than he – could leave nothing but a permanent imprint on his mind. Maybe even on his very soul, poor battered thing that it was.

John cleared his throat and tried to regain control of his faculties. Daisy was nowhere to be seen, and he hoped fervently that he had not frightened her. "A glass of water, if you don't mind."

The moment Anna had disappeared from view he scrubbed a shaky hand over his face. He hadn't thought of the war in so long. He made a studious effort not to give audience to his memories, equal measures afraid of and bitter about the images they would present. He'd never learned that young medic's name, but his face haunted his nightmares sometimes. When he thought back to how proudly he'd gone off to war, how loudly he'd professed his support of it all, John fairly despised himself. What folly! What youthful ignorance! A permanent limp and several pieces of metal stuck in his leg were his just desserts.

Anna was not a creature of pity. She felt keenly the struggles of her fellow man, whether or not the faculties of her mind could grasp their finer details. A natural sweetness of temper leant itself easily to an empathy for any benevolent creature truly deserving of the sentiment; however, there was something about Mr. Bates that called to her for more than empathy. Despite the gap in their ages and experiences, Anna couldn't help but feel as if she understood him. She could not rid herself of the thought that whatever was in him, was also in her(1).

The sensation only intensified when she returned to the servant's hall to find him still motionless in his chair, gripping his cane so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

"Here you are," she murmured to draw him out. She set the glass down in front of him before lowering herself into a chair, watching as the ghosts dropped away from his expression and were replaced by a mask of equanimity.

"Thank you. I hope I didn't scare Daisy."

"Oh, I don't think so. Only, you must forgive her. She's too curious for her own good."

John chuckled dryly as he sipped at the cool water. Too curious for his good, more like. "She's done nothing wrong," he assured Anna. "Curiosity is a tenet of youth."

A part of him – the wiser part, he would soon come to understand – whispered a reminder that Anna was still young herself, much closer to Daisy's age than his own. Indeed, there was curiosity in her eyes as she regarded him quietly, the discretion in her silence in direct opposition with the openness of her expression. John could sense that she wanted to know more, but propriety and consideration held fast to her tongue.

"You should go up," he told her after a long silence.

"What about you?"

Concern for others clearly came so easily to her.

John jostled his glass of water slightly. "Soon as I've finished."

Anna did have to admit to some exhaustion. Her days were always so full. Mr. Bates seemed to have recovered from whatever turn he'd suffered, and she had a sinking sensation that six o'clock tomorrow morning would come sooner than she'd like.

"Very well," she agreed finally, sweeping easily to her feet. "Good night, Mr. Bates."

He tried not to allow the ease of her movements to make him yearn for the wholeness of body he'd known before the war. "Good night, Anna. And thank you."

True to his word, John finished his water and retreated to his room. Though he'd anticipated a restless night, the opposite proved true: he was asleep as soon as his head fell upon the pillow.

The obligatory six a.m. knock on his door dragged him from strange dreams. He'd dreamed of being in Africa again, trapped in the dirt not by a nameless medic, but by the lifeless form of a wife that he wished didn't belong to the word. Somewhere in the distance the Earl of Grantham kept ringing the dressing gong and insisting that Bates dance with Miss O'Brien. All the while Anna hovered at the edges of his vision; pleading with him to please have some of the water she'd brought him before the dirt filled his lungs. No matter how he'd fought and wriggled, he could reach neither Anna nor the water. He was not sorry to wake.

John made quick work of dressing. When he left his room, he went directly to the kitchen, which was already abuzz with activity. Mrs. Patmore was chiding one of the newer maids as she kneaded a ball of dough. He didn't see Daisy anywhere.

"Do you know where Daisy's got to, Mrs. Patmore?"

"Asleep on her feet, wherever she is," the harried cook responded.

"Who're you looking for, Mr. Bates?" William asked from behind him.

"Daisy."

"She's finishing the fires upstairs."

"What d'ya want with Daisy?" Thomas eyed him suspiciously as he stepped around William.

"What's it to you?" Mrs. Patmore challenged. "Get on with ya."

The woman had been talking to Thomas specifically, but John took the chance to slip from the room while the cook and first footman stared one another down. He'd been hoping to catch Daisy before breakfast so he could apologize for his lapse of manners the night before and reassure himself that he hadn't frightened her.

He was in luck. He was nearing the stairs when a trio of feminine voices floated down from above him. When John paused to look up, he found none other than Daisy making her way down the stairs, with Anna and Gwen in tow.

"… Handsome enough, I think," Gwen said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Best not repeat that where Lady Mary can hear you," Anna responded. She was smiling.

"Morning, Mr. Bates," Daisy called suddenly. She gave him a weak smile, but didn't seem wary of his presence. That was something, at least.

"Morning, Daisy," he replied warmly. Then, nodding at the other two, "Anna. Gwen."

Daisy finished her descent and then came to a stop in front of him, tugging at the fingers of one hand with the other in that nervous way she had. Gwen made to stop as well, then tossed a confused glance over her shoulder when Anna stuck a hand in the small of her back and pushed her away.

"We've got work to get on with," Anna chided. Gwen missed the wink her roommate aimed at Daisy.

John reminded himself to thank Anna most sincerely (for everything) as she ushered the other woman into the servant's hall.

"I'm ever so sorry for pryin', Mr. Bates," Daisy started. "It were wrong of me to ask."

"It's quite all right, Daisy." His words weren't meant to placate her. He didn't mind that Daisy had asked, or blame her in any way for the memories that her questions had awakened. She had a kind heart, and had meant no harm. "I only wanted to make sure I hadn't frightened you."

"Oh! I wasn't frightened. Well, only that I'd made you mad. Mrs. Patmore's always telling me to quit wagging me tongue."

Either the cook had preternatural hearing, or some sort of sixth sense about being talked about; no sooner had Daisy finished her relatively quiet sentence then Mrs. Patmore was hollering her name like a banshee. The young kitchen maid visibly started, brown eyes widening to saucer-like proportions.

"I'd better go," she excused herself hurriedly. "'Fore she comes looking."

John barely had a chance to bid her goodbye before Daisy was scampering toward the kitchen, her customary, "Yes, Mrs. Patmore!" bouncing back to him from the walls as she went. The echoes of the cook's tirade followed him as he moved into the servant's hall.

Though Bates wouldn't go so far as to say that all welcomed his presence at Downton, they seemed to have at least accepted it. The sound of his cane tapping against the flagstones no longer drew scornful or studiously blank looks. Well, not from anyone other than Thomas or Miss O'Brien, but he ignored those easily. He was fairly convinced those were just the default expressions where those two were concerned. Mrs. Hughes and Gwen both offered him wordless smiles, which he returned.

Only Anna's greeting was overtly friendly. "Hello," she said when he'd taken his seat beside her.

"Hello." Bates couldn't help but notice, perhaps for the first time, that she had a pleasant smell about her. He thought it must be some sort of soap, but there was also a hint of something flowery. Quite without warning he found himself wondering if Anna used perfume.

Mr. Carson's arrival at the table undermined any shock Bates might have felt at himself for wondering such a strange thing. The start of breakfast and the assignment of the day's duties proved a suitable distraction.

"As you may well know," Carson began as he poured himself a cup of tea, "His Lordship's birthday is next week. Guests are expected to arrive as early as tomorrow. I expect everyone to be at his or her best. If I see so much as a hair out of place, I'll …"

Here Mrs. Hughes cleared her throat very loudly, drowning out the end of his sentence. The downright scandalized look the butler directed at the housekeeper, who glared back just as pointedly, had Bates turning his head to hide his grin. To his surprise, his gaze connected with Anna's, who was obviously trying to contain her own mirth. He couldn't resist arching an eyebrow at her in a conspiratorial sort of jest; for just a moment they were the only two people in the room, connected by a kindred sense of humor.

Mr. Carson recovered; the spell was broken. "As I said, I expect nothing but the best from everyone. Do not disappoint."

"Or else," Anna added very quietly. The corners of John's mouth turned up.

"What a waste of time," Miss O'Brien groused. "Never much cared for birthdays."

"Course not," Gwen deadpanned.

"What do you care for?" William asked at the same time, incredulous.

Anna could have swallowed her laughter, if only she hadn't turned her head to find her mirth so clearly reflected in Mr. Bates' dark eyes once again. She felt it bubbling in her chest, reaching up her throat, but it wasn't until she heard a deep rumble that it broke free. She'd never heard Mr. Bates laugh before; the sound was rich, and full, and thrilling for its rarity. The sound of his laughter brought forth her own.

The strains of their laughter pierced the silence that had fallen over those assembled. Before Anna could chide herself for unprofessionalism another laugh joined theirs, and then another, until the only people not laughing were a stern butler, a sour lady's maid and a humorless first footman. Even Mrs. Hughes was trying to disguise a grin.

Then the bell for the service entrance rang, followed almost immediately by Lord and Lady Grantham's, and breakfast was at an end. Chairs scraped over stone as those assembled scrambled to their feet, racing to meet the day that was calling for them. John was disappointed to find Anna already on her feet and making her way out of the room with nothing but an impish smile by way of goodbye.

That moment of shared lightness stayed with him throughout the day. He made conversation with Lord Grantham as he dressed him, listened as the other man professed excitement or trepidation over certain guests expected to attend the birthday party his wife was throwing him, and all the while half of his mind was somewhere else.

The situation didn't improve throughout the day. More than once John found whatever he was looking at replaced by the vision of shining blue eyes, overflowing with good humor. While not necessarily unpleasant, it was certainly distracting.

He was on his way down for lunch when he heard it: a tinkling peal of laughter. Such a joyful, free sort of sound, like perfectly distilled happiness. John recognized it immediately. Without thinking he turned to follow it.

Not surprisingly, he found her with Gwen. Anna was turned away from him, so the redhead saw him first.

"Oh, Mr. Bates!" Gwen called. "Fancy a game?"

"Depends on the game." He crossed the short distance separating them.

"It's a little silly, really," Anna demurred.

"There's naught wrong with a little silliness!" Gwen argued.

"Amen," he murmured. His response must have surprised Anna; he didn't recognize the look she gave him. "Well, what is it?"

"A guessing game," Gwen explained. "One of us thinks of a word and then gives hints about what it might be throughout the day. You have to either guess it correctly, or give up before you go to bed. Like, if I was thinking of grass, the first clue might be green, or outside."

A simple game, really, yet one that he would be happy to play. He also wouldn't deny that it pleased him just to be asked to participate. "Whose turn is it?"

"Yours, of course," Anna replied cheekily. "But we're good at this."

Her teasing gave rise to a playfulness of his own that he'd thought long since lost. A real lightness of spirit, such as he had not known in many years, took over him as he acknowledged her challenge. "Oh? I'll consider myself warned."

Not one to miss out on a challenge, Gwen brightened and said to Anna, "I wager a shilling I guess it first."

"Right then," Anna agreed. She shifted the bundle of sheets she held into one arm so she could shake on the agreement. Then she looked expectantly at Mr. Bates. "Got your word then?"

"Indeed I have."

Anna couldn't put a dampener on her smile. Though she and Gwen had played this game hundreds of times – it was nearly an everyday occurrence, in fact – it excited her in a completely different way now. They had a new player, a new variable and challenge. Plus, there was an expression of eagerness in the valet's eyes that pleased her. Though she did not doubt that Mr. Bates was mostly happy here, today was the first time she'd seen him look thoroughly pleased. There were no shadows lingering in the corners of his eyes, or lines of tension in his shoulders. He seemed perfectly happy to play their game, and that made Anna happy.

"Go on," Gwen urged excitedly. "What's the first clue?"

"White." John tried not to feel smug as he watched Gwen's expression fall and Anna's nose crinkle in contemplation.

A clatter from the foyer below recalled them to their surroundings. He could almost see the cogs turning in their minds as the three of them started to step off in different directions. On a whim, and because he couldn't resist the good- natured taunt, John glanced over his shoulder and called, "Happy guessing, ladies," before sauntering off down the hall.

The rest of John's day was peppered with little snippets of humor. Every time he passed Gwen or Anna in the hall or on the stairs, they'd ask him for another clue or teasingly accuse him of secretly helping the other woman. At one point, when he'd thought he was alone in the boot room, Gwen's head had appeared around the edge of the doorway to guess (incorrectly) at his chosen word. She'd been quite put out at getting it wrong, but cheered immediately when he reassured her that Anna hadn't guessed it correctly yet either.

By the time they sat down to dinner in the servant's hall, John was nearly buzzing with positive energy. Though he hadn't been unhappy at Downton, it was the first day that John could own to feeling more than contentment. The hours had passed pleasantly for him. The game was simple, and no less fun for it; his joy was simple, and no less powerful for it.

"A cloud," Gwen murmured as the three of them settled into their respective seats.

"I already guessed that," Anna reminded her.

Gwen frowned.

"So if neither of you guesses it correctly, do I get a shilling?" John teased.

"Should've made that bet when you had the chance, Mr. Bates," Anna retorted.

Even if he had made that bet, he would've found himself going to bed empty handed. They were halfway through dinner when Gwen had an epiphany. She forgot herself in her excitement and started suddenly, making those seated next to her jump as well. She paid them no mind; too busy shooting an exultant look at both Anna and Mr. Bates as she crowed, "Salt!"

Mrs. Hughes was half convinced Gwen must have hit her head somehow, and Anna was a shilling poorer, but John went to bed that night with laughter in his heart.

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Footnotes:

1). ..."that whatever was in him, was also in her". I wasn't sure why this sentence felt so familiar to me when I wrote it, until I realized that it was a version of a quote I read somewhere else. The original is from Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte: "He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same".


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I've already realized that the timeline I had worked out in my head for this story won't really work. It's not a huge deal and won't affect the story, it just irritated me because I thought I finally had a good grasp on the show's timeline! Oh well. Anyway, thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favorited this. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Anna stretched up onto the tips of her toes and craned her head to see over Gwen's shoulder. She wasn't sure if she'd rather curse her short stature, or Gwen's unfairly tall one. She ended up settling on both.

"Budge up," she hissed to her friend, "I can't see."

Gwen sidled a little to the side; pressing up against the doorframe so that Anna could get a better look through the tiny opening she'd created by holding open the door.

"Who's he?" Gwen nodded to the gentleman in question.

"Don't know," Anna answered. The man was turned away from them and quite engrossed in conversation with Lady Sybil. Anna was willing to wager that he was quite handsome, whoever he was.

"Look, there's Mr. Crawley! I don't care what Lady Mary says, I think he's a fine looking gentleman."

"Certainly," Anna agreed. "Though I'll not admit it again."

"Whatever are you doing, girls?"

Anna and Gwen spun around so fast they knocked elbows. Mrs. Hughes was standing just behind them, hands clasped in front of her as she eyed them knowingly. They were in the stairwell, having stopped to peek out of the door at some of the newly arrived guests. Mrs. Hughes had caught them unawares, and now stood between them and any escape they may have been tempted to make.

"Nothing, Mrs. Hughes," Anna said automatically. Mrs. Hughes arched an eyebrow at her in silent admonishment. The housekeeper knew exactly what they'd been doing.

"Gwen, see that we've enough rooms made up for the new guests. Anna, get downstairs and help settle the ladies' maids."

"There're more of 'em? Did everyone bring a ladies maid?" Gwen asked, surprised.

"Everyone except the gentleman." Mrs. Hughes' answer was saucy, and Anna couldn't resist smiling at the exasperation Gwen almost failed to hide. "Get on with it then."

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes," the ladies chorused together, even as they broke apart to go their separate ways.

Anna took the stairs down a little faster than was strictly necessary. Downton Abbey was always something of a busy place, what with the day- to- day comings and goings of the rather large Crawley family, but now it was even more so. The Earl's birthday was just a few days away and the steady stream of guests that they'd been receiving didn't show any signs of stopping. The servant's hall was already too crowded to accommodate everyone at meal times. Arrangements had been made to split the servants into two groups, one dining right after the other, and still Anna felt like they were being overrun.

The resulting energy of so many new faces and new goings on was almost impossible to ignore, though. Anna was finding it hard not to get swept up in it all. Irritated as she might be with some of the consequences – like overcrowded meals – she was equally excited about others. So she didn't bother to check her speed as she wound her way down the staircase, reveling in the added exertion and opportunity to burn off some of her adrenaline. She needed to focus; there was work to be done.

She heard the noise and bustle of below stairs before she saw it. Anna could easily detect Mrs. Patmore's shrill tone, harping on some poor kitchen maid as if the world were about to end. If she had to guess, Anna would say it was Daisy. Also easily detectable was Mr. Carson's deep baritone, rattling orders at people as they passed on swift feet. A single misstep, a single mistake, and the whole thing would quickly turn into chaos. If it couldn't already be called that.

"Ah, Anna, there you are. Did Mrs. Hughes find you?"

"She did, Mr. Carson."

"Good. Miss Middleton, this is Anna, our head housemaid." Mr. Carson motioned to the woman standing next to him, whom Anna hadn't immediately noticed.

She made up for it with a quick smile and a, "How do you do?"

"Could you please show Miss Middleton to her room? Oh, but before you go, there's another … Ellie," he called to a passing maid, "Could you fetch Miss Brown from the dining hall?"

"I can do it, Mr. Carson," Anna offered. "We'll go that way anyway."

"Quite right, quite right. Very well." The butler was halfway back in his office before he'd finished speaking.

Anna offered to carry Mrs. Middleton's bag, but the other woman politely declined. She led the way down the hall. "Have you been to Downton before, Miss Middleton?"

""Fraid not," Miss Middleton answered. "And please, do call me Nora."

"Well, welcome to the Abbey, Nora. We're pleased to have you."

Anna stopped them just outside the servant's dining hall so that she could poke her head inside. Mr. Bates, who had been making to walk out that same door just then, had to step back rather quickly to avoid smacking into her.

"Oh! Forgive me, Mr. Bates, only I was looking for Miss Brown."

John smiled and leaned his weight onto his cane in order to shift his body out of the way. "Yes, I know."

Miss Brown was standing behind the valet with her bag in hand. Anna surmised that he must have overheard her conversation with Mr. Carson and had offered to bring the ladies' maid out to meet her. She smiled at him in thanks.

"Hello, Miss Brown. I'm Anna, the head housemaid."

"Pleasure to meet you, Anna. And I'd prefer to be called Grace, if you don't mind."

The other woman stepped forward to shake the hand that Anna had offered. Anna faltered for the slightest moment upon realizing as she did so that Grace had eyes of two different colors: one was green, the other blue. What a striking contrast! She was so surprised that it was all she could do not to stare.

"If you'll come with me, I'll show you to your room," Anna said to cover her blunder.

She was about to leave, visiting ladies' maids in tow, when Mr. Bates asked, "What's the next clue?"

Anna smiled. "Flowers."

"That's terrible," he muttered.

She fought a laugh as she started for the women's rooms. Mr. Bates had taken to the word game well, and was frighteningly good at it. Though she'd say otherwise in his presence just to tease him, he'd made quite a challenge of it. She was determined to stump him today.

"Clue?" Nora queried as they went.

"Oh, it's for a word game some of us play to pass the time," Anna explained.

"You lot get on well here, then?"

"Fairly well." As long as she didn't include Thomas or Miss O'Brien in the lot in question.

The ladies would be sharing the room right next to hers. She explained briefly where everything was and made sure to tell them that she was next door if they needed anything. Nora was the more outgoing of the two, and not much older than Anna. She glanced around the room interestedly, remarking on how light and airy it felt in a way that pleased Anna. She'd long since considered the Abbey her home, and was glad to hear it praised in any way.

"If you'd like I can leave you here to get settled, and fetch you before the dressing gong." Anna had done the same thing for the other two ladies' maids that had arrived earlier in the week.

"If you would be so kind." Grace's voice was quiet, almost musical. She seemed to Anna a very unassuming sort of person.

With a nod of agreement, Anna ducked out of the room. After a moment's hesitation she decided to head to the kitchen. She could spare a few minutes for a cup of tea, if she made it herself and stayed out of Mrs. Patmore's way. Maybe, if she was really lucky, the dining hall would be mostly empty and she could find a seat.

When Anna got to the kitchen, poor Daisy looked ready to collapse, or even pull out all of her hair. Mrs. Patmore was in rare form, lording over the maids in her charge like a fierce mother hen.

"What'd you want?" The cook asked as soon as she saw Anna.

"Just tea. But I can see to it myself," Anna added quickly.

Her words had the opposite effect of the one she'd intended. "Daisy!" Mrs. Patmore crowed. "Didn't I tell ya to put the tea tray out in the dining hall?"

"But I did, Mrs. Patmore."

"'Course you did." Anna spit the words out so fast her tongue nearly tripped over them. If she could save Daisy from another verbal slap then she most certainly would. "I'll go there now."

She gave Daisy what she hoped was an encouraging smile before turning tail. She knew from years of experience that her presence in the kitchen would only exacerbate the cook's prickly mood, and that was the last thing she wanted.

"Wouldn't go in there if I were you."

Anna glanced over to see Thomas in an empty doorway, his shoulder propped against the frame. He hadn't yet changed into his dinner tails. Anna resisted the urge to act on the irritation his comment had caused her. He obviously knew that she'd just come from the kitchen, so why make the comment at all?

"Mrs. Patmore's in a right foul mood."

"She's under a lot of stress." Privately, Anna thought that she could probably be convinced to defend anyone against Thomas. "Leave her be."

The footman shrugged. Anna didn't understand how he managed to infuse such an innocent action with so much belligerence. She waited for Thomas to move away before indulging in a minute shake of the head. That was one person she doubted she'd ever understand.

The dining hall was less crowded than she'd expected. William, who was seated in the far corner, seemed to have had the same idea she did. A still steaming cup of tea was set on the table in front of him. The young man looked tired and preoccupied, if the way he was staring off into empty space was any indication. She considered interrupting his reverie to ask if he was feeling all right, and then decided against it. William knew that he could talk to her if something was bothering him.

Anna prepared herself a cup of tea and then sat down in her usual spot. She sighed quietly as the tension left her body, having been unaware until that very moment that she was tired. Her feet and lower back ached, which was saying something for someone who'd spent nearly a lifetime in service. Out of nowhere, her mother's voice popped into her head to repeat a phrase little Anna had often heard on the farm: "I've run my feet off". The unexpectedness of the memory, as well as the turn of phrase, made Anna smile.

That was the sight that greeted John as he stepped into the room: Anna, her gaze fixed on some invisible point on the table before her, smiling into her teacup. She was lost in some pleasant memory, perhaps. She did not move or look up at him as he crossed the room. He watched her surreptitiously as he did so, only then realizing that he didn't often get the chance to observe her in such a natural state. The head housemaid was always so busy, so alert and aware of where she was and whom she was with. John had never met anyone so in tune to those around her.

"Hello," he finally ventured, after having seated himself.

His voice snapped Anna back to the present. She turned a wide smile on the man seated next to her. "Hello," she responded. "I didn't realize you'd come in."

"I noticed. Is anything the matter?"

"Not at all. I was only thinking that my feet hurt, and that reminded me of something my mum used to say."

"Oh?" John prodded. "What was that?"

"'I've run my feet off'. I think she must have said it at least once every day, but I've never thought about it until just now."

"Was your mother a lady's maid?"

"No. She helps my dad run the family farm. Well, she did. I suppose my brother does that now."

"I didn't know you had a brother." John poured himself a cup of tea and then offered to refill Anna's with a silent nod to the teapot. She held her cup out for him.

"Samuel," Anna continued, by way of explanation. "He's two years older. Do you have any siblings, Mr. Bates?"

John shook his head. "I'm an only child."

"There you are!" another voice said then. Anna's gaze left Mr. Bates' face and moved to the other side of the table, where Gwen was beaming at her. "I've figured it out."

"Have you?" Anna arched an eyebrow at her friend and grinned. "Right then, let's have it."

"Garden."

Gwen looked so proud of herself that Anna didn't immediately answer. When she did, she tried not to laugh. "'Fraid not."

"What?" Gwen demanded. "But I was certain!"

"It's perfume," John said calmly, as if he couldn't care less whether or not he was right.

Anna's chuckle was cut short in favor of turning a surprised glare on the valet. When he saw it, the corners of John's mouth turned up. That was the reaction he'd hoped to get.

"How long have you known?" Gwen was obviously vexed.

"I only just realized it when I sat down." He glanced at Anna. "You're wearing some, aren't you?"

Anna was shocked into muteness. Indeed, she was wearing perfume, which was a bit of a rare occurrence. As a rule she usually only wore it for church on Sundays, and occasionally on her days off, as the stuff was so expensive. She'd only decided to wear it that day because she wanted to make a good first impression on their guests. The idea had never occurred to her that someone else might notice. As such, Mr. Bates' question had quite an unexpected – and involuntary – effect on Anna: she blushed.

John had never seen her blush. He'd seen her flush from exertion as she rushed through the big house, and pink from exposure to the sun, but he'd never actually seen her blush. A red that was even brighter for the natural fairness of her skin swept over her cheekbones as if it'd been painted on. The contrast was striking.

John refused to admit that the change was fascinating. More than that, he refused to let himself wonder why she was blushing in the first place. Certainly she'd not been caught out; he doubted that Mrs. Hughes cared if the ladies under her charge wore perfume.

"I wanted to make a good impression," Anna finally managed to answer. Her spirit slipped into a state of mildly frantic disarray as it occurred to her that she was no longer certain whom she was trying to make a favorable impression on.

Our guests, she silently chided herself. Don't be daft. Who else would it be?

"Anna." Mrs. Hughes looked harassed as she entered the dining hall then. "Mr. Carson will be ringing the dressing gong at half past. Why don't you show Miss Brown and Miss Middleton to their Ladies' rooms."

She was glad of the diversion and rose quickly. Now was not the time to attempt to figure out why she'd reacted so strangely to such an innocent observation. Mr. Bates had done nothing more than state a fact, and a very boring one at that. Lots of girls wore perfume.

Still, the recollection of the incident refused to be thrown aside. Anna thought about it on the entire trek to the servants' quarters. She'd just raised her hand to knock on the door to the visiting women's room when she thought of her fresh cup of tea, forgotten on the table downstairs.

"Blast it," Anna muttered. She knocked on the door.

Grace answered. Without her overcoat and hat Anna was able to get a better look at her, and thought her a remarkably beautiful woman. The different colored eyes, which had thrown her off at first, were set in a kind face and framed by dark hair. She was closer to Mr. Bates' age than Anna's, tall, and thin. Grace presented quite the image of poise and beauty. Her plain clothes and lack of ornamentation seemed to enhance, rather than detract, from the effect.

Suddenly, Anna's inner turmoil of moments before disappeared. She was glad of her decision to wear the perfume.

"If you'd like to come with me," Anna said by way of greeting, "I'll show you the way upstairs."

Behind Grace, Nora fixed one last strand of her hair in the mirror and then nodded at her reflection. She appeared behind the older woman with a smile. "As good as I can manage, I'm afraid."

Anna was not one to get down on herself about her looks, but, standing next to Grace as she was, she thought she understood Nora's sentiment perfectly. Nora had nothing to worry about, though. "You look beautiful," she answered with a warm smile.

Anna made polite conversation as she led them through the house. Nora was Lady's maid to the Lady Courtenay, Countess of Devon. Anna gleaned that the Earl of Devon had known Lord Crawley from childhood. Of course, it was one of her duties to know who was in service to whom, but she enjoyed listening to Nora's explanations. Though she was a little freer with her tongue than Anna, there was no maliciousness to her words or anything truly untoward about what she revealed. Rather, Anna thought it more likely that she was simply someone who liked to talk.

By the time they reached the second floor landing, Grace had barely said four words together. Whether stoicism was her natural state, or she'd chosen not to contend with Nora, remained to be seen. Her expression was affable enough.

The dressing gong rung just as Anna was showing Nora the necessary door. She said a quick farewell and then moved off quickly, Grace in tow. They hadn't gone more than two steps when someone called her name.

"Oh, Anna!" It was Lady Sybil.

Anna dropped into a quick curtsy. "Yes, M'lady?"

"Could you please start with Edith this evening? She wants to go down early."

"Of course, m'lady."

"Thank you."

Grace waited until they were out of Lady Sybil's earshot to speak. "You're head housemaid, and lady's maid to the daughters?"

"I am." Anna hoped her reply hadn't sounded overly proud.

"All three of them?" Grace was impressed.

"All three," Anna confirmed. "Here you are. D'you think you can find your way back, or would you like me to come back for you?"

"I think I can find my way, thank you."

She had no chance to reply. Lady Edith, who seemed to be in a state of agitation brought on by either irritation or excitement, chose that moment to peer out of her room and call for her. Grace disappeared into her Lady's room before Anna could excuse herself.

The housemaid sighed and hurried back in the direction she'd already traveled. It seemed to be shaping up to be one of those nights.


	4. Chapter 4

The Earl of Grantham was staring at his reflection in the mirror without actually seeing it. He stood perfectly still as Bates ran the horsehair brush over his shoulders. He thought about the occasion of his birthday while his eyes raked over hair that was more silver than brown, and eyes that had accumulated too many lines at their corners. Robert Crawley didn't consider himself old, not really, but sometimes he couldn't recall when so many years had passed.

"How're you getting on, Bates?" He asked.

"Well, m'lord," Bates answered without hesitation.

Robert watched his valet turn away to stow the brush he'd been using. There was something to be said for having Bates with him again. They had shared a part of their youth; more than that, they had shared a terrible experience. The years had not left Bates untouched any more than they had Robert: he was heavier now, although he'd always been a bear of a man. There was also his limp. The Earl found that he couldn't always reconcile that physical limitation with the John Bates in his memory; he'd been such an active, vibrant man all those years ago. He'd always had something of a quiet temperament, but then it had been at odds with the rashness of youth.

Looking at Bates now, Robert could find no trace of that impetuousness. No, the Bates he saw these days looked as though the very idea of impetuosity had never occurred to him.

Was that what they were coming to in their old age? Or was John Bates' stoicism a direct result of a war and too many rash decisions?

When had they become these men?

"Do you ever miss it, Bates?"

"What, m'lord?"

"The war. The simplicity of it all."

John paused in his ministrations. His Lordship had been quiet throughout the process of getting him ready, and he'd been wondering what sort of thoughts were occupying him. John hadn't expected them to be about the war.

"No," he answered. Then, "But then, I've long since been of the mind that there's nothing simple about it."

Finished, John stepped back to await the Earl's approval. After some minutes had passed, in which Robert neither moved nor spoke, he leaned forward slightly and called to him. "M'lord?"

"Hmm? Oh!" The Earl's shoulders straightened and he made a show of looking himself over in the mirror before nodding quickly. "Thank you, Bates."

"Are you well, m'lord?" John couldn't resist asking.

"Perfectly well," Robert responded. "I was just thinking of the festivities planned for tonight, and I started wondering how it happened that so many years have passed."

John smiled wryly. "I sometimes wonder that myself, m'lord."

Robert looked, truly looked at his friend. John Bates was a quiet and steady man. He was unassuming, dependable and kind; it gladdened Robert's heart to see him inside Downton's walls. No matter what his wife said, or anyone else for that matter, he'd made the right decision in letting the valet stay on. If nothing else, the presence of a friend that he'd shared so much with did him good.

Feeling oddly sentimental, Robert clapped a hand on the other man's shoulder. "I am glad you're here, Bates."

"As am I, m'lord."

"Right. I'd better go down."

Robert had just put a hand on the door when John said, "M'lord?"

"Yes?"

"Happy birthday."

Robert thanked him with a smile and then disappeared through the door.

John didn't leave immediately. He stood quietly in the center of the room and took in his surroundings. He never could have imagined all those years ago that he would one day find himself here, in this place and with these people. John had imagined the path of his life going much differently than it had. He'd been prepared for so many things; his own shortcomings had been overlooked, and thus been his downfall.

He knew better now, though. John had learned about himself over the years. He understood what sort of man he was – and what sort of man he had been. Just as he knew what sort of man Robert Crawley was. He'd always been better at reading others than he was himself.

John had written to Robert Crawley because he was a good man, and an honorable one. Robert was the sort of man that John hoped would better him by example.

That was all John Bates wanted for himself now: to be a better man. He could accept that he may have missed, drank away or squandered all other chances of real felicity in life. That was no more than he deserved, really, and he'd done it all to himself. Well, himself and one other, but that didn't bear thinking of. No, he didn't deserve any of the happiness he heartily wished for others, and he knew it. But he could make something better of himself. With hard work and humility, he could fashion himself into the man he should be; the son his mother deserved, and thought he was. That was all John expected from his life these days.

As he made his way out of the dressing room and down the hall, John couldn't have been more certain that coming to Downton had been the right choice. The great house would bear silent witness to his evolution. He would pass the remainder of his days in penance for past grievances, and that penance would be made more worthy by his silence. He would not bemoan his lot, or even allude to it. Whatever had happened, happened. There was no changing it now.

That was not to say that he wouldn't pursue whatever small joys came his way. He was determined to be happy here. He could create friendships, and help where his help was needed, and do his best to better the lives of those he could. John would either find contentment, or make it. All of that he could do without revealing more than the barest hint of himself.

The bustle of many feet pulled him away from his musings. When he descended into the saloon he found himself put in mind of a carefully orchestrated circus. Hall boys, maids, and countless other servants crisscrossed the floor as they moved about their tasks. A few smiled at each other as they passed, and one or two even called out greetings, but the rest would have impressed Mr. Carson with their dignified silence. Although Bates had yet to discover whether or not it was possible for someone who was not a member of the Crawley family to impress the old butler.

He navigated through them carefully on his way to the door that hid the stairs.

Grace was just setting foot on the landing when John stepped into the service stairwell. The lady's maid offered him a small but pleasant smile. He returned it easily.

"Morning, Mr. Bates."

"Good morning, Miss Brown."

"Please, do call me Grace. Are you going down?" He nodded, and Grace waited for him to pull even with her before falling into step beside him. She either didn't notice his slower pace, or didn't care. "I heard tell you were new here?"

"I am," John affirmed.

"And are you happy here?"

He hesitated before answering. How odd, that she should ask such a question in light of his previous thoughts. "I am not unhappy."

Grace did not press him for an explanation. She nodded once, as if the answer was perfectly acceptable – and perhaps it was. He doubted that every person in service was happy to be in the situation. The work was honest, and respectable, but it was also hard. Maybe Grace felt the same.

"And you?" he countered, half out of curiosity and half out of propriety.

"I am content."

He didn't fail to notice that she didn't use the word happy. "And how do you like Downton?"

"The estate is beautiful," Grace answered warmly, smiling at him. "And I have been welcomed most wonderfully."

"I am glad to hear it." Either she must not have had much occasion to speak with Thomas or Miss O'Brien, or they were less inclined to show their claws to visitors.

They weren't far from the last door that separated the servants' hall from the rest of the house when it suddenly swung open. William shot into the stairwell with a very bewildered look. He was moving quickly, clearly in some sort of hurry, and John had started to move to the side when Grace stepped down a few steps to create a gap between them. William now had plenty of room to breeze past with a mumbled apology. In his wake, Grace directed a curious glance at John, who could offer no explanation for the footman's behavior.

The door swung open again. "… Bloody fool," Anna huffed agitatedly. She was staring down at her feet, a storm cloud on her brow, and had not observed them.

Footsteps sounded from behind him just as the door, which he doubted had even properly closed, was pushed open once more.

"Anna," Mrs. Hughes called from the door.

Simultaneously, from the other direction: "Lady Edith sent … oh."

Anna stopped walking and turned her back to the wall so that she could see in both directions. Just in front of her, Mr. Bates and Grace were politely trying to hide their confusion – and interest; at the top of the stairs, one of the younger housemaids couldn't seem to decide if she should finish her sentence, though she'd clearly been looking for Anna; and in the doorway, Mrs. Hughes looked exasperated.

John watched as the storm cloud that had been brewing in Anna's expression darkened minutely, and then disappeared completely. The irritation that had been there didn't leave so much as it evaporated. One minute the housemaid looked ready to scold anyone within reach, and the next her countenance was perfectly calm.

"Mrs. Hughes?" she prompted, deferring to the woman's station.

Whatever the cause of Mrs. Hughes' exasperation, it didn't seem to be Anna. She shook her head and answered, "It'll keep." She was gone before Anna had turned to face the younger woman.

"Yes, Louisa?"

The housemaid couldn't have been more than sixteen and seemed on the verge of panicking. She spit out her words all at once and they came out in an unintelligible heap. "Lady Edith asked to sent for I and you tripped on the carpet."

Anna pressed her lips together tightly to contain her mirth. "Right, come on then."

She barely managed to smile at Grace and John as she navigated between them and disappeared up the stairs with Louisa.

"Is it always like this?" Grace questioned after several seconds of silence.

John shook his head and they started down the steps once more. "It's hard to say, but I think not. It's not usually this …"

"Dramatic?" Grace supplied.

"Hectic," John finished, but he smiled at her suggestion.

"I worry about that young woman." Grace lowered her voice as they moved off the stairs and into the servant's dining hall. John glanced at her in silent question, which she didn't answer until Daisy had finished setting out the tea and moved away. "Anna. She seems always in such high demand. I wonder she hasn't been run into the ground."

Ever the private person, John's thoughts immediately turned away from the conversation. He valued discretion in his private life, and that discretion had extended to the house and the people therein the moment he'd taken on the work. Every working class person knew the first rule of service: there was no discussion of the place of employment with anyone outside of that establishment. But it was more than that for John; he considered his silence on the household's inner dealings as a matter of honor.

There was another part of him, the hot-tempered and perpetually indignant half of him, which called itself immediately to Anna's defense. John didn't know why he should feel the need to defend her, as Grace had said nothing that required a challenge. In fact, rather the opposite was true: she had expressed concern for Anna's well being. A concern that Anna herself seemed aware of, if her words the other night could be taken as any indication. He recalled perfectly her expression: "I've run my feet off". Still, Grace's words made him wary.

"She is kept busy, surely," he finally made himself respond as he surveyed the room. He chose not to circle the table, choosing a seat for himself near the door instead. "But I do not know that she doesn't enjoy the activity."

At that, Grace smiled. "The energy of youth." She took a seat next to him.

The way she said it, as if recalling a far removed memory, made John chuckle. "I'd not put nails in your coffin yet," he joked. "If you did, I'd be no more than a corpse."

"Oh, I don't think so. I am closer to your age than not, I think."

John was saved from having to answer by the arrival of Gwen and Nora. The two women greeted them and then took seats at the table, slowing their conversation enough to absorb Grace into it before continuing. They seemed to be talking about the shops in Ripon, and as John wasn't expected to contribute, he didn't bother to follow the conversation.

He was halfway through a cup of tea when it occurred to him that something about Grace's last comment was bothering him. There seemed something deliberate in the way that she had pointed out the closeness in their ages. He wouldn't say her words had been unwarranted, given that he had opened the subject; only that they had been delivered very precisely. The memory of her tone made John feel as though she'd wanted to call a specific sort of attention to the matter.

Ridiculous, he mentally berated himself. Out of the question. Grace had meant nothing by it. But the idea stayed with him, brushing the edges of his consciousness like an itch he couldn't reach. Had Grace been trying to convey an interest in him?

He soon found himself trying to sneak covert glances at her as she attended the conversation, newly curious about how he judged her. She was certainly beautiful, and he found her mismatched eyes particularly pleasing, but her face lacked any real openness. Her expressions were pleasant, but revealed nothing of the person within; she smiled often, but with restraint. When he looked he could detect small markers of her age, but without close inspection she could as easily pass for a maid as a matron. In short, there was little about Miss Grace Brown to suggest more than ambiguity. She could be the devil as easily as she could be an angel, or anything in between.

Just then, there was a sort of tingling that swept down John's spine and then footsteps, and then Anna appeared near his shoulder.

"The whole house has taken leave of their senses," she said so only he could hear.

"Sit a spell, won't you," John answered kindly. He was dismayed to realize that all of the seats near him were occupied. In the short time they'd known each other, Bates had apparently grown accustomed to always having her seated next to him.

"I hope naught was amiss with Lady Edith?" Grace queried as Anna crossed the table to an empty seat.

Anna scoffed. "Louisa was so flummoxed when Lady Edith asked her to fetch me that the silly girl tripped and spilt an entire bottle of perfume on the floor."

Gwen and Nora both giggled. "I hope you weren't too hard on her," Nora ventured.

"Of course not," Anna answered quickly. "We managed to clean it up, and Lady Edith didn't mind terribly. I'm sure we've all had similar moments."

Nora used the opening to regale them with an anecdote of the first time she'd made a considerable blunder. John watched Anna absent mindedly as she poured herself a cup of tea, smiling at all the right moments during Nora's story. Her irritation from earlier in the stairwell seemed to have worn off, and the memory of it made him curious all over again as to what had caused it. He wanted to ask her about it, and how she was getting on, but he couldn't do so from across the table. Well, he could have, but he'd rather not.

John didn't realize that he'd taken to staring at her until Anna's eyes slipped away from Nora and met his. He felt caught out suddenly, but she didn't seem perturbed. She held his gaze steadily, unabashedly, and then smiled at him over the rim of her teacup. Her response was bold, and a little playful, and made him smile.

John was discovering that he enjoyed it when Anna smiled.

"So, Mr. Bates," Gwen addressed him. "Have you got another word for us?"

"Oh, is this for that game you were telling us about, Anna?" Nora questioned.

"It is," Anna replied. "Mr. Bates guessed correctly last time, so now it's his turn to pick."

Grace surprised him, and quite possibly the others, by speaking up then. "Might we join in?"

"O'course, that'd be wonderful!" Gwen exclaimed happily. "Shall I explain how to play?"

In fact, John did not have a word chosen. He'd been so preoccupied with wondering about Anna's blush last time that he'd forgotten that she'd left before another word could be chosen. Now he used the interlude that was Gwen's explanation to wrack his brain for a word and suitable first clue.

"Go on then," Grace told him, sitting up straighter and looking at him. "Give us the clue." Her voice held the first note of excitement that he'd heard from her.

"Very well. It's 'light'." Bates glanced around the room as he spoke, noting that most of them were smiling in some way. The only exception was Anna, who appeared to be listening to him, but trying to discreetly observe Grace.

Mr. Carson entered the room with his usual brusqueness then, looking over the assembled party until his gaze landed on Mr. Bates.

"Ah, Mr. Bates, there you are. I'd like to go over his Lordship's plans for the evening. I expect it'll be a late one."

"Of course, Mr. Carson." John rose and unhooked his cane from the back of his chair. He followed the butler out of the room with a parting smile.


End file.
